


One Safe Place

by Carnivalwheel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Croatoan!Verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnivalwheel/pseuds/Carnivalwheel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Croatoan!Verse - Crowley has an encounter with Samifer and then someone else...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Safe Place

The crowbar comes down again, this time it's against his head.

He holds the scream in, biting on the inside of his mouth instead. He wishes he trusted himself enough to even open his mouth to let the some of the blood escape. But Crowley won't give Lucifer the pleasure of his screams. Not now, not ever.

Trying to swallow the liquid down only makes it worse and he ends up choking. Some of the red droplets manage to hit the cement floor in front of Crowley through his clenched teeth. There's blood running out of his nose too, but he couldn't tell if it was from his mouth or because the crowbar had broken some of the bones in his face.

The demon knows that Dean won't come for him. Not because it's too risky, it is, or because Crowley's a demon, in the madness that they live in a demon is a useful ally to have. No, Dean Winchester isn't coming for him because Lucifer is wearing his younger brother like fine tailored suit and there is no way Dean can save Crowley and kill the brother he watched grow up.

And while he has never met Sam Winchester as far as Crowley is concerned, the youngest Winchester was just as bad as the Lucifer himself.

In moments of weakness, Castiel sometimes told him stories that made Crowley want to reconsider his view on the devil's vessel. Other times, when Crowley truly wanted to know things about the former hunter, Castiel refused to tell him. And if it weren't for the fact that Dean never talked about his brother, Crowley would have asked.

Somewhere in the back of mind the demon knows that the refusal of information confirms Sam Winchester was not a evil person. So, Crowley only has the beginnings of a vague picture of what the lives of the Winchester were like before the world was shoot to hell. In that picture, Sam Winchester is not evil.

Crowley closes his eyes, clenching his teeth as hard as he can. His head is pounding and he is aware of the crowbar hitting him hard and fast. Against his will, his mouth opens, but he can't hear himself scream. He's not sure whether or not any sound even comes out. Maybe he's finally deaf.

Then, there are hands pulling at his shoulders yanking him back.

__

 

Crowley opens his eyes and he's sitting in a very bright white room. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he swallows. He must have passed out, he must have been moved to a different location where new torture awaits him.

Something shifts beside, he closes his eyes again, and waits for the pain.

It doesn't come.

When he glances over, Lucifer is sitting right next to him. He tries not to jump in his seat, but he cringes and waits for crowbar to come down. After a moment, there's still no pain. Turning his head, he can see Lucifer staring at him curiously. It takes the demon to realize that this can't possibly be Lucifer. The man sitting next to him looks far to empathic of him and a little bit too curious of Crowley. And if Lucifer is not sitting next to him then that means the man is-

"Sam Winchester?" He questions hesitantly.

At the name, Not-Lucifer tilts his head to the side and gives him a smile. "Yeah, that's me."

"You're dead."

Not-Lucifer, no Sam, tilts his head back up and smiles some more at Crowley. There wasn't even a moment of consideration at the statement because Sam let out a small chuckle right away. "Well, everyone dies."

"Not me," Crowley protests. He pounds his fists against whatever they're sitting on, though he is unaware as to why he feels anger at the statement. After all, living in the world that he did the best Crowley could hope for was death.

Sam frowns down at him, unlike his brother, this Winchester many facial expression and just as many emotions. "Why not you?"

"Because Lucifer isn't exactly happy with me."

"That hardly seems fair."

"We're demons, we don't do fair."

Sam nods at his statement, but his interest in the conversation is gone. He's looking down at the bench. "How did you get that scar on your hand?"

The cut is probably from one of Lucifer's beatings, but he looks down at his hands, the hands of his meat suit, anyways. Staring at his hands is surreal and makes him freeze the second he sees the white line that ran from his middle knuckle down to his thumb. He knew exactly where he got the scar that from.

"I don't believe it." This wasn't his meat suit, this is the body he had when he was-. He sucks in a sharp breath and stares at his shaking hands. In that moment, Crowley is aware that nothing hurts like it did when he was standing before Lucifer. "Am I dead?"

"Yeah, sort of ."

"How?" Crowley hisses.

"Let's just say that hunters can play just as dirty as demons."

"And this place?" Crowley began to realize now that the whiteness doesn't hurt his eyes like he knows it should. He doesn't feel like a human, but at the time same time he doesn't feel like a demon.

"Think of it as Heaven's waiting room," Sam says. "We can't leave without the rest of the tour group."

Crowley was definitely afraid to ask why Sam had implied that they were waiting to go to Heaven, he not sure he wants to know. But he's not afraid to ask who will be joining them and when he does Sam gives a look that makes Crowley want to go back in time and take it back.

"Dean and Cas." Apparently, Sam realized that he really didn't know.

"Oh," is all Crowley can think to say because suddenly there's a shift and the whiteness turns into a rush of blurred colors. His eyes still don't hurt, even though the light changes drastically from bright to a softer glow of orange and yellow. They're sitting on a porch now during sunset and in the distance leaves of tree that don't really exist shake in the wind. Shadows pull and stretch along the ground before them. It's almost peaceful, but Crowley being the man he is has to shatter the silence and get answers.

"Why did you say yes?"

There's no out burst of anger at the question, the man next to him doesn't even have the decency to cringe or flinch at the question. Sam just opens his mouth to reply and closes it after a moment later when no sound comes out. He stares out into the distance, his head shakes slightly back and forth like he's trying to convince his mind to tell him the answer. Finally, he replies quiet absently, "You can't stop destiny."

There is more silence and it stills feels peaceful. Crowley's not sure if it's a good thing or not. Before he had died he was living in a world where everyone was on edge, except maybe Castiel, and the tension lay itself over their minds like a blanket on their shoulders Here there is no tension or worry or care. There is just them and a multitude of time and possibilities. Except, Sam has been here longer than him and has probably mastered whatever secrets this realm has to offer.

"One more question."

"Shoot."

"We're waiting for Dean and Castiel to get here," Crowley says, "and then what? We go to heaven and skip through fields of flowers together?"

"No," Sam's lip curls up into a smile. His eyes seem to shine a little bit brighter. "We all go to Heaven to raise an army and kill Lucifer. We can pick flowers "

"Your plan will never work. It's weak at best and you still sound sure."

"What can I say? Destiny is a funny thing," Sam says shrugging and still smiling at Crowley. " Plus," Sam leans close to him and whispers. "I have a few secret weapons."

Crowley looks back at the man whose mortal body was Lucifer's vessel, who broke a his own brother and a former angel's heart by simply saying yes, who had pulled Crowley from hell into someplace so much more pleasant with each passing minute. Damn it all, Crowley thinks as he laughs.

He's not sure how many times he can die, but then again the inner workings of the afterlife have always interested him and if Sam's secret weapons are who he suspects they are, Crowley will be among friends and enemies alike.

"Okay," Crowley nods. "How along until the other morons get here?"

"Not too long," Sam reassures as he reaches over and takes Crowley's hand in his own. "But long enough that we can get to know each other better."

The scene before them begins to crumble before them and a midnight sky full of stars paints the sky. The bench disappears and they're rolling in the grass. Sam lets out a laugh as they tumble. Crowley reaches up, grabs a fistful of the mop of hair, and presses their lips together to silence him.

As it turns out, Crowley is wrong about Sam Winchester and for once he doesn't mind one bit.


End file.
